Hold Her Down

by Kathryn R. Biel

  "I don’t want to put any pressure on you, because it seems like you may be under a lot of pressure, but you can tell me anything. If you want to unload, unload. We’re stuck here for a while, and, frankly, there’s nothing good on TV tonight. I checked."

  God, it was right there, telling the world that she had been so weak that she had wanted to kill herself. How could he bare her deepest, darkest secret like that? How could he betray her so?

  And then, it took a sudden divergence.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN: June 20, 2012

  Elizabeth couldn't believe what she was reading.

  Her tears had stopped, replaced by laughter. Ben poured another round of whiskey. Nellie wasn't usually much of a liquor drinker, but this night seemed to call for it. She finally relaxed and sank into the couch. She realized that Ben had grown serious and was studying her, as if trying to decode her. She didn't want to disappoint him by telling him there was nothing worth decoding. She was flat and boring, and a failure to boot.

  "Why would you say that? The Nellie I used to know is anything but flat and boring. And I seriously doubt that you're a failure to anyone but yourself."

  Nellie had not even realized that she had spoken aloud until Ben answered her. "Well, maybe I didn't use to be, but I am now. I don't know where I went wrong, and I don't know how to get back on the right path. Maybe I'm not a failure, but I'm certainly lost."

  "What if I show you how to find yourself?" Ben's eyes began to sparkle.

  Was it Nellie's imagination, or was he getting turned on? She studied him for a moment. Yes, he seemed to be aroused. She took another drink while she studied Ben. Perhaps she should stop drinking, because realizing that he was turned-on was turning her on.

  Coyly, she said, "What do you have in mind?"

  This could not be happening. But there it was. The proposal of a "relationship." Elizabeth wondered if you could even really consider it a relationship.

  "So, let me get this straight ... you are going to tell me what to do all the time?" Nellie said skeptically. "Cause that doesn't sound all that appealing."

  Ben pushed a hair back behind her ear and trailed a finger down her cheek, tracing her jawbone. Her skin radiated fire from his touch. "Trust me, and you will have to trust me. Everything I do will appeal to you. I can tell it does already. Your pupils are dilated and your lips are parted. You are dying for me to touch you. Aren't you?"

  Before Nellie could help herself, she breathed a "yes" in response.

  "Good. Now I'm going to show you how this works. You need to know that I will not really hurt you in any way. I'll give you a safe word and if it gets too much, you can use that word and I will stop, no questions asked."

  With every turn of the page, it got worse and worse. The debasement. The humiliation. Elizabeth kept going, hoping it would get better, but knowing that it wouldn't. Page after page describing degrading act after degrading act.

  "Just stand there and let me look at you. If you move, I will punish you."

  She knew that he meant it, and, even though she thought it should repulse her, it only turned her on more. If that was even possible. He walked around her once, and then again, examining her from head to toe. She could not remember the last time she had stood naked in front of a man. He took the switch in his hand, and flicked a spot just below her right shoulder blade.

  "What are those scars from?"

  "I was in a car accident with my boyfriend when I was twenty. The car rolled and I got cut." She had two long scars that started by her breast and wrapped around to her back, almost forming a triangle. He drew the switch across the scars and it made her tremble.

  "How about these?" He said, drawing the switch across her outer hip. She looked down to see what he meant. He abruptly flicked the switch, causing a painful sting on her buttocks.

  She was shaken. "Um, stretch marks?"

  "Why do you have stretch marks?"

  "Because I gained weight with my pregnancies. I only recently lost all of it."

  "Keep it off. I don't mind that you are soft and supple. I like that as opposed to some of the hard bodies I've been with. It means I can bend you and train you to my will. But don't gain an ounce back. I will know. I will be watching." He traced her soft abdomen, gently flicking the flesh that formed her small love handles and the pooch of a belly that she could never seem to get rid of.

  He walked around her again. She was trying so hard not to tremble. She could not bear this much longer. Her shoulders ached from holding such an erect posture, and the throbbing between her legs was agonizing.

  "And this," he said, drawing the switch across her pubic area, just below the hairline.

  Nellie exhaled in a quiver. "My, my c-section scar."

  Elizabeth could not believe this. Sure, many women had stretch marks and had c-sections scars, but the flank scars—well, those were all hers. He had not only literally exposed her by revealing her foiled suicide attempt, but he had actually described her body as well. Every single beauty mark and flaw, not to mention a very detailed description of her breasts, right down to her bra size, and how they were beginning to sag. She couldn't even begin to process the description of her genital region. What was she going to do? God, the book was out there, and everyone was reading it. It was on the best-seller list, for Christ's sake! And everyone in the town—

  That was it. Everyone in the town knew she was the mystery woman; that she was Liza. Elizabeth closed her eyes and tried to stop the pounding in her head. Saturday night. The party. Jack. Standing too close. Going off, talking in a dark, secluded spot. His hands on her waist. The palpable tension between the two of them. Him taking her home. Someone dropping a glass as she told him to call her Liza. Oh God, this was what all the talking and the dirty looks were about. This was why she had not heard back from Julia. This was why Nicole Bovee ignored her in the supermarket, and why Carrie pulled Caroline from the program.

  Oh God! What was she going to do? Who was she going to call? Should she call Peter? How do you explain this to your husband? Should she call Nancy and try to talk to her? Should she call Julia? Oh wait, Julia wasn't speaking to her. No one was. She felt friendless, and all alone, adrift as the seas got choppier and choppier. The last time she felt this hopeless and despondent—well that had led her to Jack. Jack. That bastard. What was with the name thing anyway? Why didn't he tell her that he wrote under a pseudonym? Why did Nancy refer to him by J.P. instead of Jack anyway? How was Elizabeth so blind as not to see the connection? Nancy's son was John.

  Elizabeth went into Teddy's room and got out the year book. John was a year older than Teddy, so he was just completing the fourth grade. Elizabeth flipped to that section. There he was, John P. Davis, III. Of course. Jack Davis. It was a common enough surname that Elizabeth never even thought of the connection. She smacked herself in the head. And again. And again. Inflicting physical pain slightly lessened the emotional pain that was ripping her apart inside.

  She had to get out of here. She was afraid that if she did not do something soon, she would hurt herself. And this time, she was so shamed already that she did not think she had enough wherewithal to stop herself. She called Agnes.

  "Mom, I need your help." Elizabeth tried to keep the desperation from her voice.

  "Oh, so now you need me?" Agnes said acerbically.

  "Mom," Elizabeth pleaded. "I really need your help. Please."

  "Oh my God, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Are you in trouble?"

  "No, yes, I don't know."

  "What do you need me to do?"

  "I need you to get over here for when the kids get off the bus. I need to leave, right now. They'll be home about 1:45."

  "Okay. I can take them over to my house and they can go swimming."

  "That sounds great," Elizabeth said flatly.

  "Now, what's going on?"

  "I, um," she faltered. "I can't talk about it, not just yet."

  "Are you in trouble?"

  "Yes, I think I am," Elizabeth adm
itted meekly. "But I can't really even figure out what's going on from here. I need to step back, and I need some help. I'm driving to Susan's to talk to her. I might not be back tonight."

  "Does Peter know?"

  "No, not yet. I need to figure out what's going on before I can talk to him about it."

  "Okay. I guess I can call in tomorrow and keep the kids overnight, if you don't think you can make it back. Be careful driving up to Susan's."

  "I will, Mom." Elizabeth said a silent prayer that Agnes was a fierce Tiger-mom, still after all these years, and would step up to help Elizabeth.

  "Don't 'I will' me. I mean be very careful. You remember what happened last time you drove up there. All that car trouble, and then you had to stay with Susan for two days while someone came out to fix it. I don't want you to have that kind of trouble again."

  God, if Agnes only knew.

  Elizabeth didn't know how she made the drive. She had to shut her mind down and literally focus on the road. She followed her GPS, marveling at how different the scenery looked compared to the last time she had made this trek. Barren desolate branches were replaced by lush foliage, bursting with green and life. She noticed with bitter irony that Mother Nature seemed to be mocking her. She was like the trees. The last time she had made this drive, she appeared dead and detached, bare and barren. Now, her life seemed full and vibrant, full of color and texture. Her life, like the branches of the trees, had reached out and intermingled with others, rather than standing apart and alone. It was this proximity which was now isolating her.

  Elizabeth tried not to look out of her periphery as she passed Jack's house. The house seemed innocuous enough in the daylight. It did not seem like a house that could have created such hurt and betrayal. Perhaps the house was not to blame, just the inhabitant. Finally, she reached Susan's house. Elizabeth had not even called her to tell her she was coming. She knew that she couldn't speak about it without falling apart. She tried to compose herself, exited her car and knocked on the door.

  There was no answer. Of course.

  Elizabeth sat down on the front stoop, defeated. She folded in half, resting her head on her knees, again wishing that her virtual fetal position would protect her from the assaults of the outside world. She sat like that and she rocked.

  Time passed, but it had no meaning for Elizabeth. In her mind, she was replaying the events of that night. The one that had brought her back into Jack's sights. She had never pegged him as mean or vindictive, but obviously she was not a good judge of character. After all, she had married Peter. Peter. Oh God, what was she going to tell Peter? Her thoughts raced 'round and 'round, whirling in a vortex of panic and despair, when she was startled by a voice.

  "Elizabeth? What are you doing here?"

  Elizabeth looked up at her kind friend's face with scarlet-rimmed eyes and a tear-streaked face. She couldn't say anything.

  "Oh my God! Are you okay?" Susan was startled.

  Elizabeth just shook her head.

  "What happened? Are you hurt?" Susan began scanning Elizabeth, looking for signs of injury.

  Finally Elizabeth croaked, "Can I come in?"

  "Oh God, of course!" Susan maneuvered around Elizabeth, pausing to help pull her to a standing position. She inserted the key in the lock and pushed open the door. "C'mon in."

  "What's going on?"

  Elizabeth walked through the door and turned right to go into the front sitting room. She flopped down on the blue micro suede couch. Susan had gone into the kitchen. She came back, carrying two bottles of beer. Wordlessly, she handed one to Elizabeth and sat down in the easy chair opposite the couch. And she waited for Elizabeth to begin.

  Elizabeth took a long swig of the amber liquid, savoring the cold and the bitterness of the hops as it ran down her throat. She didn't know how to begin.

  "I don't even know where to start."

  "Just take your time. I'm here all night. I don't have any plans."

  "When will Jayne be home?"

  "She usually gets home around six. She won't care that you're here. She'll be happy to see you."

  Elizabeth looked around the room, eyes darting from one thing to another, trying to formulate the words to tell her horror story. Then she saw it. On the end table next to the chair where Susan was sitting. The book on top of the pile of books. Elizabeth slowly put her beer down on the coffee table, rising deliberately. She walked over to the end table, Susan watching her the whole time with an eagle eye. Elizabeth reached down and picked up the book. Her hands were shaking. She had never seen the paperback before. The author's name was written across the top in red letters, with the title in matching red, marching across the bottom of the cover. The picture was of a woman, captured in soft muted tones. Actually, it was of a bare back, showing her right side. The model's hair cascaded down her back in loose, tangled curls. She was hugging herself with downturned eyes, giving her a withdrawn appearance. There was a long red scar running from her underneath her arm, wrapping around her side and down her back. Subconsciously, Elizabeth's left arm curled in, hugging her chest as her fingers extended to her side, feeling the raised scars of identical size and placement.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: June 20, 2012

  "Have you read this?" Elizabeth asked Susan.

  "Yeah. It was really good. I'm not usually into stuff like this, but even I thought it was hot. I always liked his tween stuff, and Jayne uses 'The Adventure Chronicles' in her curriculum, so we had to see what this was all about."

  "Me."

  "What?"

  "Me," she looked up, meeting the shocked look on her friend's face. "It's about me. The bastard wrote it about me."

  "WHAT?" Susan was incredulous, not able to fully process what Elizabeth was saying. Hell, Elizabeth could barely process it herself.

  Elizabeth turned around and lifted up her tank top, showing Susan her side. Susan reached out and gingerly touched the scars that extended below her bra in the back. "That was the car accident when Simon totaled his Mustang."

  Elizabeth nodded.

  "You always spoke more fondly of the car than you did of Simon."

  "I loved that car. That was why I dated him. When he no longer had the car, I no longer found him attractive."

  Susan smiled. "I never pegged you for the superficial type."

  "What can I say? I was young and stupid." She paused. "As opposed to now, when I've fully graduated into imbecile stage."

  "Before you head down your self-pity spiral, you need to tell me who, what, when, where, why and how."

  Elizabeth knew why she had driven all the way to Susan's house. This was what she needed. She started telling the tale.

  "J.P. Devaney is apparently a pseudonym for the man I know as Jack Davis. I went to prom with him in high school. I wanted to date him. No, that's not right. I wanted to date him when I was a sophomore, but he wouldn't date me because he said I was 'too innocent' for him. Instead, he dated some lumberjack girl who had claimed to be my friend. We stayed in contact, and he took pity on me and took me to my prom. I guess we lost contact after I went to college. I think I only saw him once after prom. Fast forward sixteen years, and my marriage is shit and I hate my husband. I'm burnt out and kind of pretty much hate my life. I'm driving up here into the boonies to buy some useless home crap from you—"

  "Hey! I thought you were coming up here to hang with me because you missed me and needed a break."

  Elizabeth smiled. "Of course. But if I frame it that way, I can blame you for all of this. Anyway, I'm driving, and I hit a ginormous pothole. My tire goes flat, and I pull over to fix it. Asshole that I am, I leave the dome lights and head lights on so that I can see what I'm doing. I set about changing the tire, all proud that I still remember how to do this from drivers' ed."

  "You? Change a tire? Weren't you afraid you would break a nail?"

  "Shut up and let me finish. You know how I can be kind of klutzy? Well, I'm making good progress, when I fall over and knock the hub cap full of lug nuts ove
r and they go rolling down the hill. By this time, it's freezing rain and snowing. I'm soaked and freezing, and have completely inappropriate clothes for the weather. I wasn’t even wearing socks, for Christ's sake. I realize that I drained the battery leaving the lights on and that my cell hadn't been charging on the drive up, so it's almost dead."

  "Plus there's bad reception. Is that when you called me?"

  "Yeah."

  "Dammit. I wish I had gotten to the phone in time."

  "Now I really do, too. Anyway, I start walking. I keep falling and running into things. And I'm cold. Oh, so cold. I was so low. Lower than I've ever been, ever. At one point, I fell down and just lay there. I wanted to die. I thought I could lay there until I died, and I was okay with it." Elizabeth paused, letting the gravity of her statement sink in.

  "Oh, Elizabeth. I had no idea!"

  "No one did. Until now, of course," she said, gesturing to the book, which was now lying on the coffee table, holding court. "The only reason that I got up and kept walking was Teddy and Sydney. If it hadn't been for them, I would have just stayed there. In that moment, I honestly had no desire to live. But somehow, I found the strength to get up and keep going. I don't know how I made it, but finally I made it to the house. And the funny thing? In my head, all I could hear was my mom yelling at me for going to a stranger's house because I didn't know what kind of crazy pervert lived there."

  "I can hear Agnes saying that, too."

  "I know, right? Anyway, I finally get to the door, and I'm so cold. I had frostbite or hypothermia, and was probably in shock. The door opens, and the guy there, he knows me. Or he used to know me. He kept calling me Liza."

  "Liza?"

  "Yeah, I went by Liza when I was young. I tried to leave it behind when I went to college. Peter didn’t like it. Plus when I got married, it just didn’t sound that great with Zurlo. Anyway, he helped me in. He had to take my clothes off because they were literally freezing and covered in ice. Not to mention torn, bloody and muddy. So he stripped me down. And I still couldn't place him."